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fish, of great endurance and admirable 
pugnacity. With a hook imbedded in 
his jaw he will dart through the water 
for minutes at a time in a fine frenzy 
of fear; hither and thither while the 
reel whirls with sweet music, and the 
rod bends in a graceful loop that 
threatens self-demolition. Now writh- 
ingin splendid contortions, now lash- 
ing high in the air above the .surface, 
the fish fights with heroic courage until 
he exhausts himself in his struggles, 
and lays prostrate in the landing net, 
beneath the eager gaze of his exultant 
captor. 
It is not the biggest bass that gives 
best fight for existence, and thrills the 
angler with a strange mixture of hope 
and fear, assurance and despair. A 
two or three-pound bass is the king of 
game fishes when it comes to his sport- 
giving qualities. He is in the prime 
of his strength and vigor, and when he 
knows that his life is threatened he ex- 
erts every effort to avert the danger. 
The fly fisherman need not bother 
with catching or buying and caring for 
minnows. He doesn’t have to get up 
in the night two or three times, and 
change the water in a bait bucket. He 
never tears his hair and stirs the at- 
mosphere with profanity when his bait 
are all dead and useless like the minnow 
fisherman does frequently. The fly 
fisherman takes his light rod; puts his 
book of flies in his pocket, and takes 
the train up the river ready to step ina 
boat and begin fishing as soon as he 
reaches his club or other destination. 
His eye is eagerly alert and skimming 
the surface of the water for inviting 
riffles or pleasing pools. He raises the 
tip of his rod, and with a graceful mo- 
tion of arm and wrist sends his feathered 
hook far out to a remote spot that the 
less skillful live-bait angler would have 
The American Angler 
had to pole his boat closer to. The fly 
poises over the water like a thing of 
life, and then settles softly down like a 
butterfly -seekine’ a sip. “Therelasa 
streak of foam; a miniature whirlpool; 
a gleam of silver and a shower of crys- 
tal drops. The reel whirrs; the slender, 
almost weightless rod bends until it 
makes a segment in the air, and the 
battle royal between the bass and his 
pursuer is on. 
The fly fisherman feels glorious then. 
He knows he has not fooled the bass 
with deceitful food, but that his skill 
and subtlety is being rewarded, and 
those numerous anglers who fish with 
both the fly and live bait will tell you 
that the thrill of exultation is much 
greater when a bass becomes victim to 
a fly. 
Some fishermen use the spoon in 
fishing for bass, but fly and bait fisher- 
men claim that they are not to be con- 
sidered anglers any more than a gunner 
who shoots quail on the ground can be 
regarded as a sportsman. When a bass 
strikes a spoon he is gone. He has no 
chance for his life, no matter how 
gamely and courageously he may fight; 
so the man who uses a spoon merely 
fishes to make a big string, and cares 
but little for the real enjoyment of the 
uncertainty of the sport. 
There are several scores of expert 
anglers in Washington who find relaxa- 
tion and mental recuperation, when the 
cares of business will allow, in seeking 
the wily bass with fly or bait. The 
oldest is probably Mr. Nat Sardo. He 
is fond of taking a trip after bass when- 
ever he can spare the time. 
Dr. Walter’ S.) “Harban, (who), ds a 
member of both the Woodmount and 
Blue Ridge clubs, is without question 
the best fisherman in Washington. He 
goes fishing oftener than any other en- 
